Life and Lies
by Laetificat
Summary: The summation of the time Gellert Grindelwald and Albus Dumbledore spent together during the summer which altered Albus's life. Rated M for potential language, violence and sexual innuendo/content in the future. Friendship-tragedy w/ ROMANCE.
1. Saturday, July 1 1899

**DISCLAIMER****: **none of the characters included in this story belong to me. At all. Every one of them belongs to the excessively talented Joanne K Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series. I only manipulate these characters in the name of curiosity. On the other hand, all content of these "stories" is written by and copyright to me.

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**SATURDAY, JULY 1 (1899)**  
{Word count: 3359}

The first day of a proper summer vacation, and even in the early morning, an honest English sun was ruthlessly beating Godric's Hollow with a steady stream of golden light and near-unbearable heat. However, it wasn't only the irritating warmth, or even over-zealous twittering of birds, that left the young man roaming the street below in a state of turmoil, emotions flickering between anger and extreme boredom. It was, in fact, his new responsibilities as head of household, and the inheritance that those things entailed. Albus Dumbledore was taking a rare moment to wallow in self-pity.

The boy's father, Percival, had died eight years ago in a locked cell in Azkaban, his body and mind quickly withering until he was a disappointing shadow of the brilliant man he had once been; although Albus was only ten years of age when his father had been taken away, he knew all too well the role model he had been. It was Percival's loving tutelage and care that had worked Albus's mind into the putty which made him Kendra's golden boy. Kendra. The dearly departed mother, who now lay buried in the cemetery in Godric's Hollow where a handful of other well-known wizarding families were also entombed. Albus's mother had been his last chance at leading an independent life of his own; was it so wrong to want to better himself? To want to move up in the wizarding world, and do great things for good people? _And I was so close_, the red-headed boy thought to himself. Without recognizing where Albus's wanderings were taking him, he had mused directly into the place of rest his mother now occupied more tangibly than she occupied his thoughts. Her death was accidental, preventable. Albus had counted on his younger brother Aberforth to keep their family safe; selfishly, to keep Albus himself in the clear. That was done with now. Aberforth had failed dismally and while both brothers had been away, Ariana had gone into a dangerous mood. She herself was scared senseless when her brothers found her, clinging to her dead mother's skirts in the cosy dark of the Dumbledore's basement.

And now, it seemed, in Kendra's absence, Ariana had become more and more volatile, her temper igniting at the most impossibly inopportune moments. Albus was not surprised at his ability to so clinically evaluate his baby sister's temper. At fourteen years old, she should have been fully immersed in the wizarding world, revelling in her magic and living a life that would allow her eighteen-year-old brother to remove himself from her. She should have been her mother's responsibility. She should have been normal. But she was not; the lovely young muggle boys had seen to that. Her damaged brain left her a gibbering mess much of the time, except when in company of the equally adrift and rebellious Aberforth. Albus snorted derisively under his breath. At least Ariana could be brought under a semblance of control in the right mood—Aberforth remained a strenuous young man, not yet into adulthood, but repulsively difficult to handle all the same. There had been a decline in his attitude ever since they had lost their father, what had once been the easy friendship of toddlers and young boys dissolving into bullying, arguments and genuine dislike. Aberforth now regarded Albus with the constant venom of hostility glittering in his eyes. They hardly even spoke, barring orders and finger-pointing.

This was only succeeding in making Albus's life even more difficult. He had been gifted a _beautiful_ responsibility by the brutal, if accidental, murder of his mother and he could not even grieve for her properly. Instead he found his not insubstantial brain racked with thoughts of his brother's difficulty, his sister's illness, and his own life spinning wildly out of control, borne to hell and home again on the back of some muggles who had wanted a bit of sport.

Albus hadn't been there, of course, be he had heard the story, known what had happened. Aberforth and Kendra, out with little Ariana. Unfortunately, no one had been paying enough attention to her—again, a painful ignorance that only made things harder—and she had wandered off on her own at the park. Six years old and practicing magic in a village where muggles abounded… even now Albus found the neglect by his mother and, more importantly, his brother, impossible to believe. Ariana had begun to practice her magic, and Albus could imagine her pixie-face lighting up at the sparks which danced around her finger tips, at the bits of grass she could set to glowing, and the various other magical delights she was capable of. However, whatever she was doing immediately attracted the attention of some young boys who did not share her gift. Ranging between five and eight years older than her, the boys crowded around, crowing at her to repeat the trick. Ariana, frightened by their prodding fingers and boisterous voices, began to look around for the family who had abandoned her. It was beginning to grow dusky and she wanted to go home. When Ariana's crying eyes made it clear to her unhappy companions that the show would not go on, they became bullying.

By the time Aberforth heard her screams, she had to be pulled from the playground bleeding as the muggle boys trailed off into the night. That night the Dumbledores lost not only a younger sister and child, but a father and husband as well.

Albus's head shook gently under the sun, his face carefully shaded by a hat. His light suit, the fashion for young men his age, at the time, was beginning to feel cumbersome and over-warm, and he wanted nothing more than to go home and relax while Ariana and Aberforth were still holed up in the basement enjoying each other's company over that of their surly adult brother. Strolling gracelessly away from the cemetery and his mother without, he realized, paying her memory much respect at all, Albus was struck by a sudden urge to do _something_. Returning carefully to her headstone, Albus pulled his wand from his sleeve and muttered, "_Orchideous_". A respectable bouquet of flowers burst of the glittering wand tip and were laid carefully on Kendra's tombstone, covering a large portion of the inscription. _"Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."_

**o o o o o o o o o o o**

Albus entered his own home on silent feet, careful not to disturb his younger siblings. Despite the bitterness that their shortfalls caused in him when he was at his weakest, mentally, he truly did care for them and even found Ariana charming at the best of times. Notwithstanding Aberforth's opinion of his brother, Albus did have a side which cared for his family, and baby sister in particular, all mental deficits aside. Removing his hat and running his hand through hair kept respectably short and pin-straight, Albus sat heavily on a chair in the family's sitting room. The house seemed frighteningly empty now, knowing that in the silence only two other people shared the space and none were working to make Albus's life more comfortable. Neither did they love him in the simple, honest way his parents had. In the basement there was the sound of lowered voices and the heavy click of wood on cement as Aberforth amused Ariana with some game or other, but the floor where Albus sat and the one rising imperiously above his head were dead silent. The relatively new house refused even to creak in the normal manner of comfortably occupied dwellings. It simply amplified the loneliness of it all tenfold. That was why the knock at his front door was like the crack of a gun.

Albus wondered whether it was worth reminding Aberforth to keep Ariana quiet while guests were in the house, but decided that his brother had surely heard the knocking and he was doing a fine job of that as it was. Albus stood in the suffocating heat and moved to the doorway of his home with casual ease. He was not in the habit of springing to answer the door these days—not that the Dumbledores ever had been, after Ariana's accident. It was more often than not a friend of his mother's come to offer her sobbing condolences, which turned into either Aberforth or Albus, whichever did not make it out of the room in time, sitting on the couch with an aging woman crying onto their shoulder. The visits were draining and pointless, and Albus knew the stress that they placed on Aberforth as well as himself—although the younger Dumbledore was getting very good at recognizing exactly when their home was about to be invaded and disappearing to the basement, or Ariana's room.

A quick hand on the knob and the door opened wide to reveal Bathilda Bagshot standing in the entryway to the Dumbledores' home. At her side was a slightly put-out looking young man, perhaps a year or two younger than Albus himself.

"Mrs. Bagshot," Albus grinned at her, trying to plaster the 'welcoming host' look across his face, and simultaneously attempting to understand why she had turned up at his house with a complete stranger, barely past noon. Bathilda had never been a particularly good friend of Kendra's as, too quick and a little too interested, she seemed a likely person to expose Ariana—and Percival Dumbledore hadn't believed that anyone was trustworthy enough.

"Albus, my darling boy!" she cried, as though her being on his porch were the most natural thing in the world. "Do invite me in, I have so much to chat to you about. Where's dear Aberforth?"

"Working on some project or other in the basement—shall I fetch him?" the hope in his voice was barely disguised. Hope that perhaps Bathilda's visit only extended so far as concern for his younger brother's lonely attitude these days, and she'd found some magically gifted friend or other in the village for him to gad about with.

"Oh certainly, I'd love to talk to the both of you. It seems so long!"

As Albus descended the stairs into the basement, a room in the corner of which played home to Ariana's bedroom, he reflected that it had, in fact, seemed 'so long'. Bathilda had not been to their house in over four years except for the standard sympathy-dessert she had delivered upon Kendra's death. He was still puzzling over it as he called his brother, and Aberforth came quickly to his brother's summons. A simple charm placed on Ariana, and she slipped into a quiet sleep. Although Aberforth was not allowed to use magic away from his school, Albus was legally permitted and any magic in their household was presumed to have been used by him. Ariana took to the use of spells better from the middle brother, anyway. A brief description of the current situation upstairs, and the brothers climbed the staircase in fairly companionable silence.

Their return to the sitting room found Bathilda looking at the family portrait of Kendra hanging on the wall, and her sullen companion reclined dejectedly on their couch. Albus had never much liked boys with the appearance of this one; good-looking, confident in that and completely unwilling to even put on a dignified face when placed somewhere they would rather not be. Those had given him the most trouble as a prefect, and tended to be the ones with defined superiority complexes outside of Hogwarts' hallowed halls. Bagshot glanced up at the boys and positively beamed, stepping back from the image of their mother.

"Well, boys!" she cried, voice so ecstatic that Albus truly wouldn't have been surprised if she had begun to clap. "I'd like you both to meet my nephew—this is Gellert Grindelwald."

There was an awkward pause.

"Er, hello," the younger brother managed. "I'm Aberforth."

"Albus," the red-haired boy announced, holding his hand boldly out, daring Grindelwald to be so rude as to refuse a simple handshake. Which he was. Gellert looked at Albus's hand as though he were slightly offended and made no move to accept it, only nodding.

"Gellert's here all the way from Durmstrang," Bathilda proclaimed proudly, and Albus's interest was momentarily peaked at the mention of the far-off wizarding school. He wondered briefly whether Gellert was foreign and had some trouble with English, perhaps explaining his reluctance to speak. He was perfectly willing to forgive the other boy, when Grindelwald opened his mouth and spoke directly to his aunt without looking at the Dumbledores.

"Not worth sharing," he all but growled, his accent no different from Albus's own, rearranging himself on the couch.

"Boys, you see, Gellert knows absolutely nothing about Godric's Hollow—" Mrs. Bagshot's speech was punctuated by a tinny laugh as she narrowed her eyes in the direction of her nephew, "—and I'll be out for the afternoon. I was wondering if one, or both, of you would do me the kindness of showing him around while I'm not about?"

"Oh," Albus paused, trying to think of a way out. However, even his astounding brain power was not quick enough to deny her as Bathilda Bagshot shouldered her bag and began to exit their home with profuse thanks. Grindelwald, disinterested as appeared to be his usual, remained glued to their couch with his eyes fixed on his intertwined fingers. "Well, all right then, I suppose."

As the door closed behind Gellert Grindelwald's aunt, Aberforth excused himself to the basement once more and Albus was left with the burden of their new '_friend_'. He could not, under any circumstances, allow Grindelwald to remain in the house where Ariana had been, and continued to be, so successfully hidden—thankfully he had the pretence of showing the other boy around the village, courtesy of the meddling female parental figure currently prominent in Gellert's life. Aberforth, he knew, could not be counted on and would remain in the basement or, perhaps, upstairs with Ariana until Albus returned devoid of companion.

"Well," he said, feigning a cheerfulness. "Off the sofa, we're going for a walk."

**o o o o o o o o o o o**

That was it! Albus had found the silence in his home oppressive, but it was nothing to the arrogant, intentional quiet this young man was currently effecting. Gellert Grindelwald could absolutely _hang_ for all that Albus cared. Every single attempt at conversation fell flat, and Albus had reached the end of the broad scope of topics that his well-educated mind kept in stock. He had tried the Durmstrang route ("not worth sharing"), switched to quidditch ("don't follow it"), and made attempts at everything between academics and the arts ("on break" and "pointless"). From the set of Grindelwald's jaw when he answered, Albus deduced that he believed none of the bollocks he was parroting, and was only interested in rejecting any and all advances—something that Albus attributed to the rebellious attitude towards his aunt, or perhaps any authority figure, which Gellert had displayed in the Dumbledore's living room. Whatever the young vigilante intended, it was successfully driving Albus into a frenzy. He _would_ make an effort and he _would_ succeed. This was a challenge like any other, and although it was late afternoon, nearly five o'clock, Grindelwald would not be allowed to return to his pseudo-home until he had had a decent conversation with Albus Dumbledore. Honesty time.

"Right. Gellert?" Albus growled, his voice flinty. There was a veiled insult in the use of Grindelwald's first name, and blue-gray eyes shot up, one eyebrow raised in a silent question. Whatever truth was implied in Albus's tone of voice, that alone was not enough to hold the attention of this rowdy Durmstrang student. "For Merlin's sake, some verbal acknowledgement would be much appreciated here!"

A pause. "Yes?"

"Would you like to take some time outside of your head to at least falsify a pleasant conversation?"

"Absolutely not." Grindelwald's voice wasn't obnoxious. He said it firmly and evenly, stating a fact.

"And would you mind sharing exactly why that is?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I would mind sharing, _Albus_."

"Well! That's right lovely, isn't it? Your aunt places you in my company—entirely against my will, I hasten to add—and you, the source of my absolute discomfiture, cannot even make a small effort to appear grateful."

"I am not grateful. To you, or my aunt, thank you. As a matter of fact, I am distinctly ungrateful, as my family '_hastens_' to remind me at every turn."

Albus was utterly flabbergasted. When had Albus, spending an afternoon in the village, turned into a personal assault against Grindelwald's values? When had Albus come to stand for everything that Grindelwald's family found him lacking in? Gellert seemed to realize his mistake, as his mouth tightened into a hard line and he scowled heavily through the mop of blond hair covering his head.

"For your information," he snarled, from under the golden mess, "I was not at _all_ interested in spending my summer with Albus Dumbledore, pride of Godric's Hollow and the British wizarding world."

"Well, I hardly invited, did I?" Albus returned, and was suddenly uncomfortable with the idea that Bathilda had been sharing stories of him which shone such a bright light on his achievements. How on earth could she say things like that and then bring her nephew into Albus's empty household, free of anything but quiet air in which his dreams could fester? "I hardly think such gross exaggerations are the source of your apparent—rage."

"Rage? Is that what you think this is?" The blond boy shot back, rather calmly. "This is not rage. This is complete and utter mortification. Disappointment, perhaps. We mustn't forget boredom."

"I _tried_! I made an enormous effort! I am not to be blamed for your refusal to be drawn into the fold."

"Under the wing of my dear auntie's golden boy? I think not."

"I am no longer anyone's golden boy! I do not have dreams to recognize, and your _aunt_ spends much more time away from our household than she is apparently sharing with you!"

"Oh, she doesn't suggest familiarity. Just prattles endlessly about your achievements at Hogwarts. It would seem that being expelled from a school famous for its intensity does me no favours in her eyes."

There was a moment of silence in which Albus refused to speak. It was not in his nature to argue with near strangers, and the hours of quiet had certainly ensured that they remained that. He would not continue to bait this difficult, potentially dangerous boy. Albus understood unpredictable people and, it seemed to him, that Grindelwald's veneer was going to crack any moment and he would smile maniacally as he drew his wand. Learning that the boy had been expelled from Durmstrang, of all places, did nothing to inspire his confidence. As it was they simply stood in the middle of a small park, glaring at each other in stony stillness.

"I am not responsible." Albus finally managed. "I would appreciate if we could at least hold a civil conversation so I will not be lying when I tell your aunt that you are a decent fellow."

**o o o o o o o o o o o**

By the time that they reached Bathilda's front door it was after six o'clock, and Albus had finally succeeded in persuading speech from Gellert. They had talked; Albus learned that Grindelwald was only seventeen, expelled just before his birthday and only a year younger than Albus himself. He had also been informed that Bathilda was Gellert's only family, and that he, like Albus, was orphaned. There was something to that; perhaps the expulsion was resultant of rebellious grief. Albus personally (and privately) believed that Gellert had much in common with his own wild younger brother, but Grindelwald was pleasant. He had a sense of humour under the uncooperative demeanour, and seemed to enjoy his life, however complicated it was. He really wasn't a bad chap. Not someone Albus could imagine getting close to, but stay on friendly terms with, certainly.

Now, however, he returned home, in the gloom. He would check on his siblings and fall gratefully into sleep.


	2. Sunday, July 2 1899

**DISCLAIMER: **none of the characters included in this story belong to me. At all. Every one of them belongs to the excessively talented Joanne K Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series. I only manipulate these characters in the name of curiosity. On the other hand, all content of these "stories" is written by and copyright to me.

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! It's so great to know that there's a handful of people reading who aren't me. ;) Seriously, the support is not only welcome, but appreciated. On another note, this isn't some sort of board fic that I'll update on command. These chapters are long and take a fair bit of time; I've been having some family difficulties lately. I lost two grandparents on different sides of the family, and have been in and out of the country/province several times, so I apologize if I get behind!

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**SUNDAY, JULY 2 (1899)**  
{Word count: 2,477}

The morning of the following day dawned slowly, but without preamble. Albus had woken early from a dreamless sleep to find a pair of moon-like amber eyes gazing solemnly across the book discarded on his night table. A great owl with two peaked horns on either side of its head was ruffling its feathers with a stormy look of strigiforme superiority plastered on its beaky face. Offering the creature a porcelain bowl of water decently clean, Albus removed the heavy rolls of parchment from its leg with agitated excitement. It was without surprise that he read the name signed to the top of each—along with a number in case pages were to go missing or be switched about in order. On page _5 of 5_, there were the scrawled words "all my love, Elphias Doge". Elphias. Albus heaved a weighty sigh.

Elphias Doge had been a good friend in Albus's years at Hogwarts. He had contracted Dragon Pox shortly before his arrival at the prestigious school, and, as Albus knew, there was nothing that children liked more than a scapegoat and punching bag. This was precisely what Elphias had become. Although he was, of course, free of the disease by the time that the Hogwarts Express arrived at Platform 9 ¾, Elphias Doge maintained a greenish tinge that was more than enough to drive away any and all potential friends... except for Albus. The younger Mr. Dumbledore had been drawn immediately to the sad looking boy, as they shared a sense of being on the outside of school life from the start. Where illness set Elphias apart, the only malady which hovered over Albus was rumour. News of his father's time in Azkaban and the role which muggles played in his imprisonment left other pupils muttering in Albus's wake. It had taken years to banish the gossip of Albus's own purported anti-muggle sentiments, but at the end of it he and his friend Elphias were still standing strong. And now the lesser wizard was out enjoying the world as Albus remained home with his mind falling into a post-schooling ruin. Cautiously, the redheaded boy unfurled the letter properly and began to read.

Sweet Merlin.

He had known that Elphias was to stop in Greece as the first part of his tour, but the excitement that awaited him there—well, that was unknown, wasn't it? The sole purpose of the trip had been to learn and experience, things which Albus would be unable to do. From the tone of his letters, Elphias thought to share everything, to make Albus feel as though he were there, but all the emotion that coursed through his home-bound friend was bitter. The empty words were nothing like being there; they were just another parade of black letters spelling out a scenery Albus would never see. Narrow escapes from the Chimaeras in Greece were not the least of Doge's adventures, although the creatures featured prominently. They were a vicious, bloodthirsty creature with a lion's head, a goat's body, and a dragon's tail and terrified Elphias out of his wits. Everything Albus really wanted to know was omitted as Elphias was preoccupied with ramblings about the size and sharpness of their teeth. The potency of their venom, the size of the beasts themselves, all important facts were left out. Well, size was included, but "terrifyingly large" was not a classification of measurement with which Albus was at all familiar. As he read, resentment began to brew and Albus was hard-pressed not to toss the letter aside in frustration. When he finally reached the end, and his friend's ramblings had petered out to condolences and "I miss you"s, only then, Albus placed the rolls of parchment in his cupboard and shut the door. Perhaps when his jealous nature had had time to slink back into its appropriate hiding place, Albus Dumbledore could bring himself to write a civil reply to his best friend. As things were, that would most certainly have to wait.

Albus left his room to find that the sun was just barely up—it was time that he checked on Ariana, as he never knew when she could be found awake. When she was, however, and alone in the house, she posed a danger to both herself and her older siblings, so she was to be carefully monitored. Edging silently past Aberforth's door, Albus glanced in carelessly, noting on that his brother was asleep, before moving down the stairs. Past the empty kitchen, filled with the peaceful thrum of houselves' snores, down another staircase, and Albus was peeking his head around Ariana's doorframe curiously. She was there, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking back at him with an unwavering gaze. It was a bit disconcerting, all things considered, but Ariana's brother smiled gently at her and paced to her side. His little sister looked concerned, and her liquid blue-grey eyes looked up into Albus's with earnest apprehension.

"Albus?" she asked, her tone wary.

"What is it, Ariana?"

"I am worried. About the goats."

Albus put his head on one side and looked properly at the little witch. She was thin, and her blonde hair hung in sheets of pale corn silk around her head. These days she seemed to be growing more distant, her comments irrelevant and often fuelled by completely baseless dread. Albus couldn't imagine why she should choose today to be concerned about the three Anglo-Nubian bovines that currently wandered the spacious Dumbledore property. They were Aberforth's responsibility, as far as milking and feeding, although Ariana did like to visit them when given time out of the house. She seemed comforted by the animals, and Albus couldn't help but think that perhaps their assured silence was placation enough for her.

"Why are you worried for the goats?"

Her little voice was barely a whisper when she responded. "I think they may be cold."

"They aren't cold, Ari. They have their own little house out in the garden, all full of hay, remember?" Albus chided her gently. He wouldn't repeat that it was a muggy summer morning, shaping up to be a sweltering day. "Really. Do you remember when we went to visit them last, and they were all huddled together? It looked like they were hugging. They'll be fine."

"No!" Ariana's eyes were growing wide with the beginnings of real panic, and she looked horrified. "We need to check on them. We have to. Albus. We have to."

"We can go down and see them later tonight, I promi—"

"NO—No! Then what will happen when they're cold and they've gone the whole day frozen?" Her body was beginning to shake and Ariana Dumbledore was quickly losing control.

"It's the middle of summer! The—"

"Albus!" Aberforth stood in the hallway, his blond hair wild, and an expression on his face that would have murdered the elder brother where he stood if looks could kill. "_What_ are you doing?"

"Merlin, Aberforth. I was here to look after her, I only wanted to see if she was awake."

It was too late for excuses, however, as Aberforth was already next to Ariana on the bed, holding her and asking her what was the matter. The story was out of her in a few watery sentences, and tears were working glittering tracks down the youngest Dumbledore's face as she finished. Shooting a vicious glare in Albus's direction, Aberforth hastily promised a walk in the garden to visit the goats and make sure they were warm enough. As Albus slipped from the room, she was nodding back into an exhausted sleep.

**o o o o o o o o o o o**

Albus had spent the better part of the morning thoughtfully wandering their garden, keeping a wary eye on his siblings as they walked, hand in hand, through the flowers and grass toward the goats' enclosure. He had noticed the especial care Aberforth showed Ariana, the way that he humoured her every whim and bent his head to listen to whatever nonsensical secrets she whispered. Every time she looked up at her brother, there was an idolising adoration warming her face. Albus thought that perhaps he recognized that look, for it was very like the one that Elphias Doge bestowed on him, but this was a different sort of love. This was a connection between siblings, a bond that no one else was privy to—not even Albus. Never had he felt lonelier.

Aberforth had suggested that Albus call on Gellert again, probably in an attempt to get him away from the house and Ariana. However, that still required puttering about for several dragging hours until a respectable time for visiting rolled around. During that time, Albus had let his thoughts drift and he found that he wasn't sure he wanted to see the golden-haired spitfire again. After all, their last meeting, while eventually pleasant, had hardly been friendly and Gellert wouldn't be amiss if he declined a second engagement entirely. Albus Dumbledore forced his company on no man—although he had never considered himself a social burden on anyone before, with the exception of Aberforth. It was odd to him, new, that anyone might find him unpleasant in the real world. Of course, at school children had their rivalries, but Albus had always had a way with the adults in his life. He reflected that perhaps maturity was less impressive when it was anticipated, as with older acquaintances. Merlin, his life seemed to be looking down no matter where he turned. In this new world his social graces failed him and his eloquence went unnoticed. Albus elected to visit Bathilda and remove these dismal thoughts from his mind.

The Dumbledores lived near enough to Bathilda Bagshot's home that Albus could walk, not so close as to be neighbours but not so far that Albus would have to confront much of his thoughts. It was in hardly any time that Albus stood poised, one pale hand raised to knock against their door, wondering whether or not he _should_. After all, just because Bathilda had given him liberty to call did not mean that Gellert agreed. Even if he had, he might not have been sincere. But his house was not welcoming and there were scant few other young men his age in the village—none were wizards.

So it was that the decision was made and boredom well-served with a rapid knock to the door, abruptly answered by a sleep-dishevelled blond with a grimace on his face.

"Hello?"

"Erm, hello, Gellert." Albus put his head on one side thoughtfully, politely waiting for the other boy to regain his hapless composure. Gellert, for his part, did not take the subtle hint and remained in the doorway running his hands through mussed hair, neglecting to even tuck in his flyaway shirt. Albus was embarrassed on his behalf and coughed quietly.

"Hello," Grindelwald repeated blearily. "What do you want?"

"Well, I was calling to see if you wanted to come out to the village with me today, but it seems that you were... busy. I'll leave you to it."

"Oh, Merlin, no. I'm coming. Step in and give me a moment." Gellert abruptly disappeared into the depths of Bathilda's familiar home and Albus was left standing on the step, to enter and close the door himself. He wondered briefly where Gellert's guardian had gone and if she would appear suddenly from the kitchen to chat with him—loathe as he was to admit it, Albus was not at all interested in socializing with the elder resident of the Bagshot household. Nearly as quickly as he had disappeared, Gellert was back at the door, hastily button his jacket and breezing out the door. Albus stood, dumbfounded, in the entry until a voice over his shoulder called, "Coming?"

**o o o o o o o o o o o**

"My dear auntie isn't at home today, I've been asleep the entire morning," Gellert said as the followed the street from his home towards the larger collection of shops and parks commonly referred to as 'the village'. The bustling hub of friendly activity was the life of Godric's Hollow and the place where muggles and wizards lived in close contact without the knowledge of one party. "Apparently that's what I do when at leisure."

"I see," Albus responded, unsure of whether or not Gellert was kidding. His grin seemed perpetual, even when he was in poor temper, so it was rather hard to gouge his mood. "Where has she gone?"

"God only knows. Off to chat with some friend or other? Is there somewhere we can sit?"

"I'm sure; there's a park in the village."

"Well then, off we go—you lead, I have no idea where anything is in this place. It's ridiculous."

Their walk was silent and, being that one had no idea where they were headed, the other what the purpose of the walk was, Albus wasn't surprised when it terminated in the same park they had paused to brawl the day before and Gellert seemed surprised to find himself there. Weary with the heat, he reclined carefully on a nearby park bench and watched with slight disdain as Grindelwald threw himself directly onto the ground without regard for either his comfort or, apparently, his attire. The blond boy shoved loosely curled hair off his forehead with an impatient hand a squinted back up at Albus.

"Right." There was a careful pause, during which Dumbledore was unsure of what Gellert was waiting for, exactly.

"Yes?"

"I have no idea what we're doing." Albus laughed down at the other boy, and shook his head ruefully.

"Neither do I. If I may be frank, I really only wanted out of my house."

"Then we're at least in the same book, even if we aren't on the same page." Grindelwald chuckled. He allowed his blue gaze to range over the muggle villagers going about their daily tasks, apparently oblivious to the young wizards in their park. The looked halted at one point in particular. "Now, he's a good-looking chap."

Not quite following the rapid change of topic, Albus looked over his shoulder at the row of shops, following Gellert's stare to a gentleman walking a stately-looking collie dog.

"There are plenty of dogs in the village; the people around here use them for all sorts of work, although I've never quite worked out how they do it. Or what they're doing, really."

"Not the dog!" the blond boy scoffed. "Filthy things. The fellow on the other end of his leash."

Another pause.

"So are you saying—" Albus halted. That sentence need not have been started. It certainly did not have a finish. "Right."

Grindelwald shrugged, tossing in an insolent smirk for good measure—before instantly cracking an enormous grin. Albus blew out a gusty sigh of relief, allowing himself to believe, for the time being, that it had been a joke.

A bad joke.


	3. Corrections erratum

**ERRATUM**

There are certainly a few errors that I made in this fiction! Through lack of research and plain old unwillingness to go back and fix it. From here on out I'll do my best to get it all right, and perhaps when I'm finished I'll go back and fix up the discrepancies. But first you should know what exactly I muddled up!

**CHAPTERS 1-2:**  
**ALBUS's AGE:** Albus Dumbledore would NOT have been 18 at the start of summer, 1899. Rita Skeeter says (in _her_ "Life and Lies", that Dumbledore was "nearing" his 18th birthday when he left Hogwarts in June, but was still 17 when he met Grindelwald. Sometime during Gellert's stay in Godric's Hollow, Dumbledore would have turned eighteen.

**GELLERT's AGE:** Gellert Grindelwald would NOT have been 17 in 1899. He was two years younger than Dumbledore, who would not have been eighteen, either. So Grindelwald would be barely sixteen. For obvious reasons, that age-range did not appeal to me... so I distorted it a bit.

**GODRIC'S HOLLOW:** The Dumbledores lived in Mould-on-the-Wold until Ariana was attacked—at that time they did not actually live in Godric's Hollow.


	4. Wednesday, July 5 1899

**DISCLAIMER: **none of the characters included in this story belong to me. At all. Every one of them belongs to the excessively talented Joanne K Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series. I only manipulate these characters in the name of curiosity. On the other hand, all content of these "stories" is written by and copyright to me.

Thank you all again for your reviews! It's absolutely wonderful to hear that someone likes a different story as much as I do. I know there are a lot of Albus/Gellert fanfics out there, and I am trying very hard to not only give another perspective, but to tell an entire story, which no other fics that I've read do. It's taking me longer, but I am working on it! I hate to make you wait, as I know what it's like to linger ages just to read something that (by the time you get it) doesn't seem nearly long enough, so please forgive me. As you read this chapter, try to find at which point I hit my speed-bump; it's relatively obvious, I think, so feel free to guess! Although, I want to remind that I'm constantly reading reviews and writing and I don't do this on command.

Also, I'm bloody, _bloody_ slow if I haven't iterated this enough. Some of you may not find this story worthwhile just yet.

**WEDNESDAY, JULY 5 (1899)**  
{Word count: 2740}

Albus had kept busy to convince himself that he did not think about Gellert Grindelwald; he had tended the goats, spent more time with Ariana, said a word or two to his brother and, finally, found it in his heart to write a reply to Elphias. Albus had been surprised, once he had started, at how easily the words flowed and how much he found he truly missed his friend. He had written with the appropriate awe and genuine happiness for Doge, making requests for the proper measurements of a chimera, the scale, and to include similarly detailed information on any other creatures or landmarks which he might encounter. And Albus was hardly even embarrassed when he realized he had written a whole two pages more in return than he had originally received; he had, he knew, been quick to begrudge his long-time companion, but that would change. In the future, Albus would respond more appropriately than he had. Doge was his best friend, no matter who he was keeping company with these days.

And, like a flash, Gellert Grindelwald would once more achieve much of the space in Albus's thoughts.

He was unsure exactly why, but the statement about the stranger in the park... irked him. And perhaps, he reflected, that was the intention with which it had been made. Just when he began to think that perhaps he could be friends with this young man, Albus would have Gellert's—_difference_ flaunted in front of his face once more. That was what bothered him the most, he decided. The sheer elation that Gellert seemed to feel in being himself, odd as he was; where Albus was resigned to his future, and getting by with only minimal grumbling, Grindelwald was racing through his life with that irritating, perpetual grin plastered on his handsome face. That was new and exciting, to be sure, and although he had said very little of what he actually planned to do, he gave Albus the impression that there were grand plans waiting in his future. Not that the eldest Dumbledore would have had much trouble accepting that reality. The difference was that, the more they talked together, the more Albus felt that perhaps he would like to have a part in those plans, as well. To see what awaited Gellert Grindelwald in his bright future—because there most certainly would be something impressive to come.

However, joining Gellert on any such journey would require becoming friendlier with the blonde Hellion than Albus currently was. Not that Grindelwald wasn't likeable enough; he just seemed more concerned with showing himself to the best advantage than making any lasting friendships in Godric's Hollow. Everything the ex-Durmstrang student did spoke of a barely-concealed need to prove that he was miles better than everyone else; especially the muggles in the village. After the incident with the dog, there had been an awkward pause before conversation began again, and when it did Grindelwald had seemed endlessly curious about the muggles. The comment about muggles using dogs for work had sparked a bit of derisive laughter, but still more questions about their habits, how they differed from wizards and what they added to the community in Godric's Hollow. Albus had been forced to admit that his knowledge was limited; to him they seemed no different. What he didn't say was that the sight of them both infuriated and even, to an extent, frightened him. That was ridiculous, certainly—a full grown wizard was more than capable of removing himself from the presence of _any_ potentially harmful muggle—but Percival had shown the Dumbledores that there were other ways a muggle could cause trouble for wizarding families. The two, Albus found himself thinking, did not really belong together; muggle and wizard interactions were not friendly. They caused harm to both parties and despite the awareness that that interaction was kept to a minimum, the potential for mischief was there.

That had seemed to be where Gellert was heading the conversation, anyway. And Albus had eventually conceded that he was right; muggles and wizards were, truthfully, a danger to one another. In the silence that followed, Gellert seemed to feel that Albus was uncomfortable and moved to a more harmless topic as they wandered further through the village, and then home again. Following that, it was days before Albus Dumbledore saw the other boy again.

Having been reluctant to attempt to engage Gellert for a third day in a row, particularly considering how unsure he was of what sort of relationship they were going to have, Albus had allowed for some time between their interactions. However, on the previous Tuesday, only two days after their last encounter, Albus had heard a suspicious tapping at his window late at night. Going to the sill to find an impressive barn owl seated there, he'd been initially confused. Was Elphias changing up owls? If so, why? And how on earth had he received the letter not more than a few hours after it had been sent? Of course, that was ridiculous, and the sheet of paper tied to the bird's leg was certainly not the rolls of parchment Elphias would have sent, had he sent it. Instead it was what, at first, appeared to be a jumble of chicken-scratch created by a particularly talentless Hinkypunk. On further inspection, it was a note which read, simply:

_I have an idea.  
-Gellert_

Albus had re-read the four words over and over again, painstakingly (the cursive really was terrible). Much as he tried to make a connection, he couldn't think of anywhere in prior conversations they had discussed anything for which Grindelwald might suddenly decide he had 'an idea'. The only thing he _could_ think of, by way of response, was "Congratulations". So that was what Albus had written on the rear of the paper and tied back onto the leg of the impatient barn owl, who was all but tap-dancing on the window sill. Within moments of its being tossed (a little violently) out the window, the owl was back, a few more feathers out of place and a disgruntled look on its beaky face. Albus supposed it had received much the same treatment at Grindelwald's home and, sure enough, the scrawl under his own message was even less legible. He puzzled over it for awhile, but even Albus's substantial mind had found decoding the scribbles trying. He had assumed that it wasn't likely to be especially important, and this time he set the owl outside the window more gently. This tender treatment was clearly not enough to save him from the creature's bad temper and he received a quick nip as he hastily closed the window.

Not at all concerned, Albus had drifted into a soporific sleep.

However, the following morning Grindelwald had appeared on Albus's front step, with a look on his face which well matched that of the discontented owl, to say that he and his aunt were going to visit family in the country, but there really was something they needed to discuss when he returned.

**o o o o o o o o o o o**

It was strange to think that Albus would never have willingly sought Gellert's company as often as he missed him in the three days that he was gone. These were spent wandering the house and avoiding contact with his siblings; Aberforth had assumed the role of Master of the House and was keeping a keen eye on both his sister and his questionably sullen older brother. Often in the passing days he had knocked cautiously on Albus's door as the older lay spread-eagled, face-down on his bed. More often than not, the only answer that the younger brother received was a grunted "Out!"

Waking late one Wednesday afternoon from just such a position, Albus rolled over onto his back blearily with arm flung over his eyes to block out the light. He was so tired that it was mildly horrifying. The only origin he could think of for these strange symptoms was his over-sleeping; therefore, it was a relatively vicious circle. Although he was constantly sleeping, Albus could not remember resting since… well, since prior to Gellert's absence. He would wake from restless dreams, convinced the other young man had returned while he had been asleep, desperate to find out what, exactly, they needed to discuss. Trust that bell end to leave him with such a cliff-hanger of a farewell. Albus groaned and rolled back onto his stomach, face buried in the pillow, red hair sticking up in all directions. However, a sharp sound from beside his bed had him scrambling backwards over the sheets, heart thumping wildly.

"Aberforth!" Albus cried, eyes narrowed angrily. "Is there a particular reason that you are in my room and—more importantly—not with Ariana?"

Aberforth scowled back at his brother, hands on his hips and the words he spit were distinctly incensed. "Because I thought you might like to know your bloody friend Grindelwald is downstairs, making himself at home. I can't watch him and our sister." And with that the younger boy swept out of the room. Albus sat up abruptly, clutching the bed sheets with wide eyes. So Gellert was back. So Gellert was in the house. So what? And instead of bolting down the stairs to confront him like a heathen, Albus stood and attempted to straighten his clothing and hair like a gentleman. He refused to rush down the stairs looking like a clod (perhaps he was still remembering the way in which Grindelwald had answered his own door only a few days prior). So, with hair pulled back and jacket only slightly askew, Albus descended the stairs at a pace that was neither hasty enough to look ridiculous nor slow enough to allow Grindelwald to get too curious while downstairs. As much as Albus would like to save face, he didn't in the least want Ariana exposed for his pride. That was exactly the sort of stupidity that had caused her accident in the first place.

His entrance into the living room had Albus face to face with a grinning Gellert Grindelwald. He had no idea how exactly the blond had managed to get so close so quickly but he was laughing; if his expression on his departure had been black, this Gellert was white. The change was drastic.

"Hello," Grindelwald smirked as he backed further into the room, throwing himself down on the couch as he had that first day. "You have no idea how good it is to see you."

"Likewise," Albus found himself nodding, feeling a smile creeping onto his face. And then, forward, straight-to-the-point: "Being that you made such a dramatic exit."

"Oh." Gellert had the decency to frown (or display what Albus suspected passed as a frown for him), a tiny creasing of the skin between his eyebrows. "I suspect I may have made my idea out to be more urgent than it actually was." He grinned again. "I was just upset that you ignored my note." The elder Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow in response. At that moment Albus heard an exultant cry from the basement, one that was far too feminine to his ears to pass for a sound form his brother and he flew immediately into a loud and falsified coughing fit in an attempt to cover it up. Thankfully Grindelwald hadn't seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary, only waiting for him to let up.

"Are you alright?" the blond questioned when Albus had straightened up, his eyes flicking nervously to the stairs only once.

"Err, yes," Albus confirmed, hesitating only a moment. "I think I just need to get out in the air. It gets close in the house."

The look that Gellert shot the other boy suggested that he wouldn't have taken his companion for such an... outdoorsy fellow. And perhaps it was true that Albus's fairer (alright, pale) complexion didn't imply a particular fondness for sunlight or fresh air. All the same, he said nothing as Albus led him through the house's sitting room and out into the yard. It wouldn't exactly have been Albus's first choice if he were truly after fresh air, being that the scent of the pond's stagnant water and goat dung were represented generally in what little breeze there was but Gellert refrained from pointing out the obvious once more. Albus was growing increasingly grateful for the other young man's erratic tact.

"What was it?" Albus asked, as he seated himself on the long wooden swing just back from the pond.

"What?" The response was out before Gellert had properly thought about what had been asked of him; his mouth, as young peoples' mouths so often are, had been quicker than his brain. "Oh. Do you remember the dog that we saw in town that first day?"

The redhead nodded, feeling his stomach clench uncomfortably at the reminder. He also remembered the dog's owner.

"And do you remember what you told me?"

"Err. Not particularly?" The answer came out as a question of its own; honestly, Albus had been trying to repress that memory since its occurrence. He wasn't entirely sure as to why, but the entire situation irked him no end.

"You told me you didn't know what muggles used them for. The dogs, I mean." Albus nodded. Now that he thought on it, he did recall saying something along those lines. "I saw it. When aunt Bathilda went into town with the family friend we were visiting, I stayed. On the farm. The neighbours kept sheep and they had dogs to work them." Gellert was becoming agitated, moving his hands excitedly. Albus would never have guessed that his new friend was so interested in animals; he couldn't keep his eyes off the blond's animated face. "It's absolutely... astounding. The command that these people have over their creatures. One blow of a whistle—just noise, Albus!—and the dogs move like they've been herded themselves, by some invisible hand. And they have trials. Competitions. Who can pen sheep the fastest, or some-such. I'm sure they do something of the kind out here. You have to see it." He finally stopped, a glow in his blue eyes. Albus couldn't resist laughing.

"I'm sure," he chuckled. "Muggles do all sorts of things in the farmland around here."

"We should go." Grindelwald nodded, as though that settled it. "It's something you absolutely have to see."

"You seem extremely interested. They're just dogs."

"But the potential!" He looked so enthusiastic. It was contagious; Albus wanted to crawl inside Gellert's head and know exactly what he was thinking, what had gotten him so riled up. "It's not about muggles controlling animals. Wizards have done that with far greater beasts than dogs. It's the power that a superior species—that's what they think they are—is capable of exercising over a lesser one. Think of it."

"What species is greater than human beings?" Albus asked, eyes twinkling. "We're widely considered to be the top of the hierarchy."

"Oh please!" Grindelwald scoffed. "There's a discrepancy there, Albus, you have to admit it. Whether or not we're all _human_ as you put it, the differences between muggles and wizards are staggering. You can't claim to think that wizards are anything but superior."

"I wouldn't dare," Albus replied, his mirth replaced by a stony expression. He was remembering his sister as she used to be, his beloved father. A witch with a glittering future and a wizard as moral as they came; no, wizards certainly weren't the same as muggles. He cast a wry glance at the goats. "But I don't think we could exactly train a muggle to herd goats by whistle."

"Oh no," the blond grinned. "We could do _so_ much more." He was still now, his enthusiasm contained to those wild blue eyes. With every breath he was leaning in closer to Albus as though proximity would allow him to better transmit the full force of his staggering brilliance. It was serving to make the red head rather light headed. "I just want you to see how. _How_ they do it. It would be absolutely revolting if it weren't so fascinating; and wizards could do it. Easily. Imagine that—muggles as dogs!" Gellert laughed leaning back with his hands behind his head. "I think I'd prefer them as the sheep."

Albus wondered over the repercussions of such a world; one where wizards could pen up muggles like animals, away from their loved ones. It would be so much safer, for all of them. It would keep them from the harm of those witches or wizards who wished to do them ill—and there was no shortage of those—and prevent any altercations such as the one which had place Percival Dumbledore in Azkaban. Merlin. All of Albus's own genius felt humbled in the presence of this bright and far-reaching boy. The thing that he was quickly learning about Gellert Grindelwald was that he was a boy unafraid of dreaming big—Albus was certain he would grow into a man unafraid of fighting for what he believed. Whatever Dumbledore lacked in ambition he had always made up for with impeccable tact and style, two things which Gellert was noticeably lacking. It had taken only a few days with this golden-haired wild card to make Albus wish that he lacked them, too.

"Hello?" Gellert was drawing the syllable out and leaning forward again, a puzzled look on his face. "Did you hear a word I just said?"

"Oh, Merlin," Albus grinned sheepishly. "I'm sorry."

"Never mind," was the smiling reply as Grindelwald stood, patting Albus on the shoulder. "I'm going to head home while my aunt's still out. It's nice to have the house to myself—and you seem distracted."

Albus stood, murmuring some quiet apology, to show Gellert the door. He could never manage to properly read the other boy; first he sought Albus's company, and then excused himself after a short (albeit eye-opening) visit. Ever the mystery, Dumbledore closed the door behind his friend, back against the door. After the escape of the garden it was time to return to his own reality. Surprisingly there was still some afternoon left after his day in bed.


	5. Thursday, July 6 1899

**DISCLAIMER:** none of the characters included in this story belong to me. At all. Every one of them belongs to the excessively talented Joanne K Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series. I only manipulate these characters in the name of curiosity. On the other hand, all content of these "stories" is written by and copyright to me.

I started this thing well over two years ago. Sweet mother of Merlin, I am so sorry.

**THURSDAY, JULY 6 (1899)  
**{Word count: 2525}

And there certainly had been some afternoon remaining. Not that Albus remembered much of it; not the particulars, in any case. He had simply continued to go about his mundane, Gellert-free life. This life consisted of the same mundane activities, in the same mundane locations, as it always had. The key difference was the contrast which that other young man provided. While Albus's life had previously been a bit repetitive, that familiarity had always been tolerable. Now, however, it was dull and almost painfully slow in a way that Albus recognized it was not when Gellert was around. Perhaps he was starved for change; it would certainly explain his zealous fascination with Grindelwald. But he was also well aware that he hadn't enjoyed any previous changes—at least, Albus wasn't desperate for the feeling he'd had upon the deaths of both his parents. He chuckled darkly. That was a sick joke, and he knew it.

The trouble was that those kind of thoughts, rife with black humor, were becoming increasingly common for the elder Dumbledore. It made him uncomfortable. Even his dreams were tainted by the dark irony of his own wasted talents. As an example, the night of July the fifth. Albus had allowed himself to drift into sleep (it was hardly any different from the apparent sleep-walking he did during the day) and had been greeted almost immediately by a vision.

He called it a vision, because at first it was just a memory. Just a stupid memory, as if even his previously inexhaustible mind was tired of coming up with new things to occupy it while it slept. Although nothing about him had changed in the dream—Albus felt that his body was adult—his dream-self knew that he should be a boy. This was because Albus was looking up at the face of Percival Dumbledore. Up. Percival was in the garden, fiddling with the goat fence and Ariana was playing beyond him. She was her ordinary self, her age appropriate to the real Albus's, instead of the presence of her father. But her features were dominantly... unextraordinary. This Ariana was undamaged. If his brain had been functioning on a conscious level, Albus would have known it was a dream at that exact moment. As he was dreaming, he did not.

Percival looked up from the goat fence and into Albus's eyes. In the dead man's face there was a glimmer of intelligence, the optical embodiment of all the life that had been present up until his imprisonment and eventual demise.

"Albus," Percival said, and his son leaned forward eagerly. "I want... I want you to stay right here." Albus nodded at his father as though this were the most sensible suggestion he'd had all day. "No, really. Right here with the goats, Albus. Forever. Because your sister's well again, so we've really no use for you."

Aberforth voiced his agreement from his place next to his father—because Aberforth had suddenly appeared and the whole family was congregating by the goat shed. Except for Kendra, which Albus suddenly noticed. And her absence was important, because if his father was alive then why shouldn't his mother be, too?

"Where's mum?"

"She went 'round to get Gellert. Nice boy. He's going to teach Ari all those funny things he learned at Durmstrang, because you haven't gone traveling with Elphias and so you really don't know anything at all."

As Percival finished speaking, Aberforth's head was changing, growing dramatically larger and fiercer. Eventually it turned into the head of a rather angry-looking collie dog and Gellert stood there, holding its leash. Except that even though Albus knew it was Gellert, he looked like the man from the village and the collie with Aberforth's body was actually a Chimaera.

**o o o o o o o o o o o**

Albus's eyes opened slowly on the morning of July sixth. It wasn't like the stories, where you woke in a cold sweat, or roused yourself with your own screams of terror. The red headed boy simply opened his eyes and calmly sat up in bed. He cleaned up and dressed with the aid of a house elf, all in almost unbroken silence. If he shook a little when he reached for his jacket or was perhaps slightly startled when he heard Ariana's laugh from the basement, then it certainly wasn't any lingering after-effect of his nightmare which caused it.

He honestly couldn't have pinpointed why the dream affected him so. It hadn't necessarily been horrific; certainly there was no mass murder or other awful violence. The more Albus thought of it, the more he found himself thinking back to the dream-Gellert, who had really been that strange muggle. Muggles. Albus shuddered in his place at the kitchen table. He hadn't even seen Ariana or Aberforth yet today—although he'd heard her and it was nearing noon—and, if he were honest with himself, he didn't particularly want to. He simply wanted to be alone with his own morbid thoughts, not even overtly desiring Gellert's company.

The muggle from his dream was triply disturbing. First, he knew, it was because he had appeared in the place of Grindelwald's familiar and, even now, beloved face. But more than that, and the second issue, was that he had so casually come up in a family situation. Ironically, Albus hadn't been bothered by the presence of a stranger when that stranger was Gellert. But, he reminded himself, Gellert was a friend—not a random and dangerous muggle. The third reason that the magicless being's presence caused Albus such distress was the way it had been tethered to his brother. Albus had no trouble picturing Aberforth as a vicious dog, but the image of that muggle holding the other end of the leash was one that would not leave his mind.

Albus clapped a hand down on the wooden table. It was a dream. A stupid figment of his own subconscious. And he was letting a stupid dream muggle spoil his mood for the day. He was far more intelligent than this sort of wallowing, most especially when he had responsibilities to take care of. Rising with the gusty sigh of a man far beyond his years, Albus descended the stairs to the basement, not entirely sure what he would find. In the Dumbledore household, they were not fond of yelling or calling out to each other across the house for fear of disturbing Ariana. Or really calling out to each other at all. The Dumbledore men had been become reclusive, even from each other, in the absence of their parents. This phenomenon was the reason that Albus entered the basement without warning and also the reason that he was not made aware sooner of its emptiness. For a brief moment he stood in the dank space, staring about dumbly. He peeked into Ariana's room, confirming its lack of habitation, and returned to the ground floor.

Not particularly concerned at their absence, although a little surprised, Albus wandered through the kitchen and out the back door. He did not immediately see either of his siblings, but he knew from experience that this was no guarantee of their truancy. There were many places on the Dumbledores' not insubstantial property for Ariana and Aberforth to hide. It wasn't uncommon to find one or the other holed up under the porch or folded inside the hay of the goat shed. However, once he had investigated both those areas, Albus did begin to feel the stirrings of real panic. It was unlike Aberforth to allow Ariana out of his sight and still less like him to disappear with her. There was an unspoken rule since Ari's... accident that she went nowhere. Their home was safest.

Albus re-entered the house and for the first time in—well, a long time—he called out to his brother. There was absolutely no response. Albus's chest was heaving and he rushed out into the street. He then immediately realized how he would look to passersby and slowed. He didn't know what he was expecting to find. On a rational level, Albus knew that he was probably wasting time, wasting energy. But right now he was wandering down the street surreptitiously scanning neighbours' yards for his vanished kin. Every passing house, unsurprisingly deserted on this Thursday afternoon, instilled Albus with a growing sense of distress.

That is, of course, until a voice jolted him from his mania.

"You look a little wild, my friend."

It was Gellert.

Of course it was Gellert.

For a moment the thought of something as... idle as the joking conversation which Gellert was attempting was totally foreign to this distressed Albus. And then it was infuriating. Finally, it was an opportunity for some assistance.

"I lost them." Albus was embarrassed when his voice came out as a whisper. He cleared his throat and started to try again as he crossed the street. He was nearly to the opposite sidewalk when he remembered—Gellert did not, and could not, know of Ariana. Briefly, Albus's mouth hung open in exasperated silence. Here he was, in the middle of the road, frantic with distress—and nearly exposing his younger sister. What a mess.

"I didn't quite catch that," Gellert laughed, running a hand casually through his hair and squinting at the sun over Albus's shoulder. Even worried as he was, Albus recognized that—lit up and smiling like that—Gellert was beautiful. "You've got to speak up. Why're you looking so... hassled?"

"I—" Even Albus's substantial brain could not come up with an excuse. Later he would think of hundreds of replies he could have made that would have worked just as well. Instead of any of those, he said: "I've lost them."

Gellert's presence seemed to do odd things to him.

The blond boy laughed again. "Lost who?"

"My brother. And... my sister."

At least Grindelwald cocked an eyebrow at that; Albus had his attention.

"I wasn't aware you had a sister."

"Well I have, and it's fairly important that she be found." Irritation was creeping into Albus's voice at the cavalier way that Gellert could mention his sister. Like a family secret hadn't just been shared. Like Ariana's return shouldn't be their top priority. Oh. Aberforth's, too.

"Well." Gellert shoved both hands into the pockets of his pants. "Where have you looked?"

**o o o o o o o o o o o**

After thirty minutes wandering the neighbourhood in the heat, Gellert suggested they return to the Dumbledores' home. He argued that at worst they would be able to regroup and formulate a new plan for continuing the hunt and—at best—perhaps Albus's siblings had already returned home from... wherever they had been. The time spent searching had granted Gellert some cursory knowledge of Ariana. First and foremost, he was suddenly privy to the comprehension of her existence. Then followed various other facts, such as her name (so he would know what to call), her appearance (so he would know her if he saw her), and various stories about her (because at this point Albus was simply babbling). Nowhere, in all that storytelling, did Albus mention Ari's accident or any of her... deficits. Not that he was ashamed of her—he simply didn't deem those facts necessary.

Sitting at the table in the kitchen, Albus had never felt stupider. What kind of person simply lost their siblings? Especially a person who knew so well the dangers of losing track of those who could not easily defend themselves. He wondered if he would be this concerned if he had never experienced that pain first hand. Chiding himself, Albus shook his head. Of course he would. They were still family, and his responsibility. Of course he would be worried. His head shot up as an audible 'thud' sounded from the basement.

Gellert's own eyes raised as well, and for a moment their respective gazes locked. As Albus stood, the blond did not move, somehow knowing that his company was not required.

The redhead fairly flew down the stairs, nearly running headlong into a bewildered Aberforth. A flurry of emotions shot through Albus but the only one which he could seem to settle on was a burning rage. It blazed through his embarrassment and conflagrated any relief he might have felt at discovering at least one of his missing family members safe.

"Where were you?" he could hear himself hiss at Aberforth. "Where have you been? And where's Ariana?"

"You sleep the morning away and you're surprised when you don't know where we are?"

"Answer me!"

Something in Albus's tone must have convinced Aberforth that his brother's mood required a straight answer, although he delivered it with the most insolent look and tone he could manage.

"Ari wanted to see the goats this morning, and we were missing one. The dark kid, you know? We've been searching the property, Albus. That's it."

The embarrassment that flooded Albus did not wash his rage away; instead it fanned the flames, blew through the anger and gave it new life. He was mad at Aberforth for not waking him, not informing him of the adventure they intended to take—for not answering his call or being easily visible from the porch or goat fence. But he was madder at himself; mad for the worry he had felt for siblings who didn't deserve it, for the time he had wasted, for the delicate emotional state he had allowed a dream to place him in. With dawning horror, Albus came to the painful realization that he was most angry at sharing with Gellert.

And like that, anger became panic.

Albus turned on his heel and quit Aberforth's presence without another word. When he met Gellert's eyes upon returning to the main floor, he gestured vaguely in the direction of the door with a weak smile.

"Do you mind walking some more?"

Gellert, always agreeable, stood and followed Dumbledore outside. For a while the pair simply continued down the street in silence, Grindelwald's hands still thrust into the pockets of his pants, eyes anywhere but on Albus's face—a lack of pressure the other young man appreciated. However, he did wince when Gellert (without looking over at Albus) said, "So I assume you found them?"

"They were further back on the property."

More silence.

"Gellert."

"Yes?"

"I have to ask that you not... mention to my brother that I divulged Ariana's existence."

Gellert raised a blond eyebrow.

"I don't think I shall have much occasion to speak to Aberforth at all, and I promise not to make mention of your secret sibling. But I have been very accommodating thus far, so I have to indulge my curiosity now by asking why."

"Secret sibling." Albus chuckled mirthlessly. "That is exactly why. He would be... displeased to hear that I had let the secret slip for something so silly as a mistaken absence."

"You are a strange lot, the Dumbledores," Gellert muttered, with an unfathomable glance in his friend's direction. "However, I've grown to like you—and so your unsecret secret is safe."


	6. Thursday, July 6 1899 Continued

**DISCLAIMER:** none of the characters included in this story belong to me. At all. Every one of them belongs to the excessively talented Joanne K Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series. I only manipulate these characters in the name of curiosity. On the other hand, all content of these "stories" is written by and copyright to me.

All right! I'm working up to the romance, ladies and gents. (Although we're less than a week in and that makes me vaguely uncomfortable.) A couple of fun things in this installment: at this point, sheepdog trials were very new—they had only been around for less than 30 years in the United Kingdom. Fun fact: "Tweed", the dog whom Albus bets on and who eventually wins the trial (spoiler alert), is based on the bitch who won the first ever sheepdog trial held in the UK. I picture her looking more like a kelpie than a border collie. I also figure that Dumbledore needed some things his past to make him the wise and cautious man that he became—and so... gambling.

**MONDAY, JULY 2 (1899)  
**{Word count: 2479}

Gellert and Albus continued to walk, even in their suits and the heat, as was quickly becoming their habit. For a long while it was a silent hike, Albus still too caught up in berating himself for exposing Ariana so wantonly and Gellert busily thinking of Merlin only knew what. Eventually Gellert seemed to grow bored of the silence (as he grew bored of most things), and turned to Albus with a wide smile on his face. Obviously he was willing to move on from the topic of Ariana entirely; Albus worried that perhaps he was oblivious to the gravity of the secret.

"I would ask that you cease to sulk a moment," Grindelwald chuckled. "And recall what I said to you yesterday afternoon."

"On what subject?" Albus inquired, peeved at Gellert's comment on his "sulking".

"Oh, really. Cheer up. I mean the dogs—the sheep herding trials?"

"Ah. I recall that you mentioned them."

"And I suggested that maybe you'd like to see one? Merlin. It's not optional. I'm making the outing mandatory. There's a trial running on the edge of the Hollow this afternoon—we've wasted a good hour already—" Gellert tactfully sidestepped the reason for their delay. "—but I'm certain there'll still be something to see. What do you say?"

Albus frowned slightly. There was a lingering paranoia from both his dream and the incident of his, albeit mistakenly, lost siblings which prevented him from leaping enthusiastically at Gellert's suggestion. He would admit, of course, that he was curious as to the muggle-canine relationship which had so enthralled his blond companion; he was simply uncomfortable abandoning his brother with Ariana for the day. The look that Gellert was currently shooting him, however, was equal parts understanding and disdain.

"Mandatory. You have to see it and I don't know when, if ever, the opportunity will present itself again."

"Fine," Albus sighed and, despite his apparent lack of enthusiasm, Gellert grinned widely. Even through his doubt, Albus felt his heart swell at the sight. He had done that—that smile existed because of him.

**o o o o o o o o o o o**

It took only a moment for Albus to explain to Aberforth that he would be absent for the remainder of the afternoon, and possibly into the evening. The younger brother frowned at this, but clearly felt that he had no right to comment as Albus had at least done him the courtesy of informing Aberforth of his intention to depart. Instead of causing a fuss Aberforth had simply nodded and turned away from Albus silently to continue whispering with Ariana. Albus, once again, had the distinct feeling of peeping in at something private and his heart ached slightly as he climbed the stairs to where Gellert stood waiting. The feeling dissipated as their eyes met and Gellert's enthusiastic grin lit up his face once more. Albus couldn't help but smile back.

They had decided to walk into a remote part of the village, out of the sight of muggles, and apparate to the outskirts, where Gellert had apparently heard the trial was being held. (When Albus asked where he'd got his information, the blond had merely smiled and said, "Muggle or witch, a woman will always have something to say to a pretty face and a prettier word. I've been asking around." Albus had not preferred that answer.) The pair wandered into the nearby forest, behind the town's only graveyard, where a sound like a gunshot or car backfiring might be mistaken for a muggle hunting. Gellert was becoming agitated in his excitement and, when he finally stopped amidst the trees and turned to Albus, he was fairly shaking with enthusiasm. Again, Albus found himself caught up in the emotion.

"Alright," Gellert said, and extended his hand toward Albus, as though offering to shake. Albus raised an eyebrow quizzically, clearly confused. "Honestly, Albus. You're going to have to side-along with me—unless you know where we're going?"

Albus admitted he did not and reached out to clasp Gellert's hand. He mused, in the split second before they apparated, that he was trusting a boy he had known for less than a week to transport him using a spell which could have potentially disastrous effects if performed incorrectly—then he felt Gellert twist and his entire body was suddenly being compressed, painfully, as though he were being swallowed whole by some monstrous snake.

And then he was blinking into the sunlight once more.

And his hand was still clutched in Gellert's.

Gellert didn't seem to notice—he was glancing casually around, and seemed to be squinting at a fairly large crowd in the distance. Albus, however, was intensely aware of the contact and he felt his face flush; he did nothing to disengage. By the time Gellert looked back at his redheaded companion and absently loosened his grip, Albus was in control of himself once more and was able to treat the touch as casually as the blond had. That did not mean, however, that the absence of the warmth of Gellert's palm against his didn't disappoint Albus; quite to the contrary, he felt it like a physical ache and he wondered at his own unusual reaction.

"I can only assume that's it over there," Gellert said, gesturing in the general direction of the crowd of people and animals. "And it looks like things are getting underway."

Albus gathered his thoughts and they set off across the field together, toward the large group of muggles. Their eyes roved over the crowd as they approached, though no one seemed to notice them, and Albus determined that none of the people present were at all likely to be wizards, aside from himself and Grindelwald. The eldest Dumbledore noted no one dressed in the smart town clothing of he and his companion—in fact, they stood out rather pointedly in that regard—as everyone in attendance appeared to be some kind of labourer. He supposed that the only ones interested in whose dog could pen sheep the fastest would be those who required dogs to do exactly that job. It was a good guess. Gellert was pointing out all the different handlers and their animals, and Albus ceased his own observations to listen to his friend. Every once in a while, however, Gellert's hand would brush his sleeve or lapel as he gestured, and Albus found the touches to be equally distracting. The blond was oblivious to the effect he was having.

A large man, both tall and wide, with stubble shading his substantial chin, approached Albus and Gellert as they looked out on the dogs running through commands with their handlers in preparation for the trials. He looked them up and down, the mocking quality in his gaze making it apparent exactly what he thought of two well-dressed young men such as they were. Albus felt Gellert stiffen beside him; clearly the blond was exactly as proud as all of his earlier behaviour would suggest. The eldest Dumbledore suspected it had more to do with the man's non-magical status than his arrogance, however, and nudged Grindelwald surreptitiously with his shoulder. Gellert stood more politely as the man spoke.

"Are ye 'ere to watch, or are ye 'ere to place bets?" he asked, gesturing at the leather purse on his belt with the pocket book in his hand. "Pair o' spiffed up lads like yourselves, should have a penny to spare fer the games."

Gellert opened his, but Albus spoke over him. "We haven't had a chance to look over the entrants as yet," he said, and the large man laughed. "Perhaps in a moment."

"Well, ye'd best 'urry. Trials looking to get underway shortly." And he sauntered away.

Gellert shot Albus a questioning look and the redhead only shrugged in response.

"I'm familiar with muggle money and not opposed to a little sport—I've been known to bet on horses on the rare occasion that I make it to the track. It can't be much different." When Gellert still looked skeptical, Albus simply said, "I'm very lucky" and went to look at the dogs. The blond man trailed after him, and Albus tried to look as though he knew what he was doing. Honestly, he hadn't lost yet at the track—though he never bet any large sum, for he knew that a loss was always possible—and had faith in his ability to choose a winning dog on the same principles today. He desperately wanted to impress Gellert; that desire was a large part of what had motivated him to wager in the first place.

There were ten competitors running their dogs through basic obedience and herding commands in the field—all the sheep were penned in the area, Albus assumed, they would have to be returned to later. His eye was drawn immediately to two of the dogs; a black and white male with one pricked ear, who moved with alarming speed, and a little black and tan bitch with pointed ears and a foxy face, who, even as she obeyed her owner's commands, kept her unwavering gaze on the sheep in the pen. Albus watched for a few minutes longer (Gellert wandered away again, bored of the analysis) and determined that, while the dog was fast, he appeared more focused on his handler's commands than the movements of the sheep. It was so hard to determine without seeing the animals interact with their quarry! When one was choosing a horse, one looked for speed specifically. So it went against Dumbledore's better judgment to place his money on the little bi-coloured bitch.

The black and white dog, Albus learned as he was handing his money to the bearded man with the leather pouch, was the favourite of the day—his name was Samson and he had won against many of these dogs before. The bitch whom Albus had bet on, called Tweed, was owned by a newcomer and had yet to prove her mettle. Albus's heart sunk; Gellert had encouraged him to wager more than he had initially intended, and now it seemed that he was liable to lose it all.

At the outset of the trial, Albus was pleased. He had at least been correct in choosing both Samson and Tweed as the most remarkable of the collected dogs; the others were serviceable animals and, he was sure, did their jobs excellently on the farm—but they would be awarded no prizes for efficiency. All the times were very close up until Samson ran—seventh in the group—to the loud cheers of the gathered crowd. He beat the fastest time so far by an unbelievable 63 seconds. The spectators (especially those who had put money on him) were ecstatic about Samson's incredible lead. Grindelwald was throwing Albus looks that clearly suggested the blond had very little faith in his friend's alleged "luck". He seemed so concerned with the gambling that he had forgotten why he'd brought Albus to see the trials in the first place.

Tweed was the last dog to run, and all the animals between Samson and her had failed to beat the black and white dog's time. Albus found that he was nervous for both she and her handler who, now that Albus looked closely, was not much older than he or Grindelwald. He sighed. He had made an awful mistake when he wagered on this pair—the bet collector was leering unpleasantly at him from a few feet away. However, as Albus watched, he began to see what Gellert had found so incredible about the trials. Tweed had an astonishing ability to predict the movements of the sheep; it was an instinct bred into her from generations of farm dogs. She listened to the whistles and shouts of her handler as a method of direction but, unlike Samson, did not follow them precisely and robotically; she was flexible and seemed to take the commands as suggestions. She did not need to be as swift as the other dogs, because she could corner on a dime and knew where the sheep were headed before they did. Gellert was gazing at her raptly, obviously envisioning the possible products of a world where muggles obeyed so beautifully—but that wasn't what Albus saw.

Yes, it was an incredible feat and yes, Tweed obeyed. But she and her handler worked so skillfully together because she had the freedom to react as she chose; the young man commanding her permitted her her independence and they collaborated harmoniously. Gellert did not seem to see that solidarity; he saw only one, supreme being commanding another.

When the dance finally ended, Tweed had penned all the sheep 39 seconds faster than Samson.

**o o o o o o o o o o o**

"Albus, I could kiss you!" Gellert grinned, and his arms flew into the air with exultation. He let out a jubilant laugh, throwing one arm over a blushing Albus's shoulder. The red-haired boy felt the muscles of his stomach tighten at the warmth of the other young man's body so close. "Truly. You're brilliant, my friend. That stupid muggle—a wizard who's never seen a trial before knows his sport better than he does."

"It wasn't overly complex." He didn't want to brag, despite receiving the admiration he had so coveted; somehow, around Gellert, it was no longer worth it. He was humbled, his brilliance commonplace and unextraordinary next to the radiant light that was Grindelwald's genius. Albus felt unexceptional, despite his victory. It was these thoughts on his mind when he felt his face grasped roughly between two soft hands and something warm touch his lips. The kiss was so fast that he did not have time to process it—and the grin on Gellert's face, as he pulled away, seemingly entirely carefree, to chat about the task at hand, was misleading. Had it even happened?

The lingering heat on Albus's lips said "yes".

"Sorry," Gellert said, laughing. He seemed to take something from Albus's silence; perhaps he was made confident by the lack of protest. "I don't know what got into me. But that bet was a marvelous bit of work!" He was entirely shameless. "Say something," he chuckled, looking over at Albus. "I would like some verbal confirmation of your presence." But for his part, the redhead couldn't think of a sufficient response. Gellert slapped a hand across Albus's shoulders in a congratulatory manner, and continued to crow their triumph as they wandered away from the trials in the dusky light. Albus's mind was reeling and, when Gellert suggested that Albus apparate them home, he had to decline as he was too distracted to get them both back with all their limbs intact.

**o o o o o o o o o o o**

When Gellert left Albus to return to his own home that night, he did so with a pat on the shoulder and another boastful grin. Albus couldn't help but wish that the blond had kissed him instead.


End file.
